


In Darkness Unbroken

by Papaya_Whip



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Hand Jobs, M/M, Power Bottom Dorian Pavus, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-20
Updated: 2021-01-20
Packaged: 2021-03-18 08:42:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28864236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Papaya_Whip/pseuds/Papaya_Whip
Summary: ⭐️✨ Galathan belongs to the lovelyawaari! ⭐️✨
Relationships: Male Lavellan/Dorian Pavus
Kudos: 24





	In Darkness Unbroken

**Author's Note:**

> ⭐️✨ Galathan belongs to the lovely [awaari](https://awaari.tumblr.com/)! ⭐️✨

When Galathan enters his chambers, he lets out a long, tense breath. He allows himself to lean against the heavy wooden door and shut his eyes, if only to hide from the stack of reports undoubtedly lying on his desk two flights up a moment longer. He sighs again and relishes in the freedom of it, of being quiet and alone and away from Josephine’s scrutinizing gaze—the Orlesian noble visiting Skyhold today had apparently found the Lord Inquisitor’s exhaustion nearly as offensive as his _vallaslin_ , and Ambassador Montilyet had promptly sent Galathan off to an early bedtime. Truthfully, he had been grateful for the dismissal.

The sun is just beginning to sink below the Frostback Mountains, casting light like wildfire through the stained glass windows. Galathan pushes off tiredly from the door and into the orange evening glow of the room, until his hands find the interior door and then the staircase banister leading onward. 

He’s pulling himself up the last two steps when he catches it—the carefully made up bed, the neatly organized desktop with his reports and quills set perfectly in line; his library has been tidied and the books returned to their shelves, with the chair tucked perfectly away; and the drawers of his wardrobe are closed and packed away, no longer spilling over with unfolded and worn clothes. Galathan stands for a moment at the landing, gaze fixated dumbly on the meticulously-fluffed pillows on the sofa. The hearth is bleeding warmly against him and Galathan shuffles further into the room, basking in the state of his quarters. He’s halfway to the bed with his hand outstretched, imagining how soft the coverlet will be when his fingertips meet the mattress, when he notices the open balcony door. A wide grin splits across Galathan’s face like lightning and he moves toward the balcony in long, eager strides.

Dorian has his elbows on the stone railing and his eyes on the peaks, and he hums pleasantly when Galathan latches onto him from behind.

“Ah, _amatus_ —”

“Did you do all this for me?” 

Dorian breathes a laugh in response and slides a hand against Galathan’s arm. His palm is warm and soft and Galathan buries the flush of his face between Dorian’s shoulder blades.

“I couldn’t possibly let you live in this filth any longer, darling. But I wasn’t expecting you back for hours, yet,” he says, and heaves a dramatic sigh. “There’s so much more I could’ve done, but now, the jig is up.” 

Galathan muffles his giggling into Dorian’s back and says, “sorry for spoiling it, _vhenan_. Besides, you’ve already done so much—too much,” he adds, shrinking a bit. “You didn’t have to. Clean up after me, I mean, you’ve better things to do with your time than—”

“Hush now, _amatus,_ your Inquisitor is showing,” Dorian murmurs, tone gentle. He laces their right hands together and raises Galathan’s palm to his lips, kissing the calloused skin he finds there. “Despite my reputation as the pampered Tevinter, I rather enjoy housekeeping. And it’s also not lost on me that you’ve been working harder than usual. I could watch you roam Skyhold all day, but even that is exhausting.” He returns Galathan’s arm to its spot around his waist before he breathes another laugh. “Just don’t tell anyone I’m capable of such compassion—I’ve an evil façade to keep up. It’s everything to do with appearances, after all, _amatus._ ”

The tension in Galathan’s shoulders eases and then he’s giggling, “you’re a ridiculous man, Dorian.” He presses closer to him, squeezing gently around Dorian’s ribs, and Dorian hums again, satisfied. They share a collection of minutes in quiet stillness save for Dorian’s thumb tracing the freckles on Galathan’s wrist.

The sky is a wash of purple and pink when Dorian finally breaks the pleasant silence. “Darling, maybe we should move inside—it’s getting a bit chilly for a beautiful hothouse orchid such as myself, don’t you think?”

“Just a little while longer? Please?” Galathan asks, turning to rest his cheek against Dorian’s back.

“Well, since you asked so nicely,” Dorian teases, but he doesn’t move. After he settles, Galathan conjures a bit of heat to his palms to warm Dorian’s chest.

“Better?”

“Mm, yes. Much.”

“Good,” Galathan says. He worries his bottom lip for a moment, rousing the courage to stretch his fingers out and feel more of him—his Dorian. Before long, he’s sliding his warmed hands along Dorian’s torso, counting his ribs on the way up and noting the familiar weave of his tunic on the way down, and Dorian is sighing contentedly toward the darkening heavens.

Galathan is still aimlessly wandering Dorian’s upper body and is halfway through an upstroke when Dorian cants his hips backwards into Galathan’s, and he gasps, surprised. His hands travel down again, slowly, but he pauses near the hem of Dorian’s tunic.

“May I?” Galathan breathes, and Dorian nods enthusiastically.

The fabric bunches at his wrists when he slips his hands underneath, and he takes his time tracing the muscles in Dorian’s abdomen and chest before ghosting his fingertips over Dorian’s nipples. They harden at his touch and Dorian arches, and Galathan bites back an elated grin—he loves the feel of him, the delicious friction of bronze skin against his palms, soft and warm and familiar. Safe. His Dorian. 

Galathan’s fingertips reach mindlessly for Dorian’s lovely collar bones and press gentle, reverent touches to the valley between them and the knot of his sternum. His face flushes as Dorian shifts against him. 

“I certainly hope you don’t plan on teasing me out here forever,” Dorian is saying, voice pitched low. Galathan shivers despite the heat it sends rippling through him.

“ _I_ _r abelas,_ ” Galathan croons into Dorian’s back, hands drifting down to roll the hard buds of his nipples between his thumb and index fingers with the silent promise of more. He draws his arms down to the front of Dorian’s trousers and presses firmly to the arousal there, wasting little time. When Dorian moans, it’s still quiet and controlled, but his cock is half-hard and growing already and Galathan’s head buzzes pleasantly like it always does when they do this together. Dorian rocks expertly against him, pushing his hips first into Galathan’s palm and then after, against Galathan’s own filling erection. They sigh together, relishing in the closeness, and Galathan withdraws his hands to work Dorian’s trousers down his hips.

“How scandalous of you, Lord Inquisitor. I— _kaffas,_ ” Dorian says, breath faltering as Galathan wraps a hand around his cock. He drags his free hand back to Dorian’s chest, holding firm to the quickening thrum of his heart before stroking him base to tip. “Galathan,” Dorian moans, hips stuttering. He pushes greedily into the tight ring of Galathan’s fingers and Galathan lets him, biting at his own lips to keep from moaning as he does it.

“You’re so good, Dorian,” Galathan says, thumbing at his slit to gather the salt there before stroking him again, languidly at first, but then, more intently. Dorian is panting as Galathan continues to murmur to him, babbling nonsense and praise against his arching spine. “So good,” he whispers, “ _ar lath ma, vhenan_ ,” he adds, breaking his rhythm long enough only to pull Dorian’s tunic up and off of him, wanting to learn the expanse of his shoulders with his lips again and again, fingers twisting back to Dorian’s leaking cock as he mouths at the nape of his neck. His hips are working faster now, grinding back into the tent of Galathan’s pants, and Galathan gasps at the force of it, of having him pressed so unbelievably close, and oh, how badly he _wants_ him. In a delirium of arousal, Galathan moves his free hand up from Dorian’s chest, past his perfectly sculpted neck and the sharpness of his jaw to press his fingers insistently to Dorian’s plush lips.

Dorian moans at the suggestion of Galathan’s fingers there, like that, and he takes them into his mouth eagerly. Galathan scrapes his teeth on a high notch in Dorian’s spine and moans, too, working his fingers against Dorian’s velvet-spun tongue and further down, against his cock. He’s so overwhelmed by how _much_ of Dorian he can feel all at once that he tilts his head down and shuts his eyes, leaning his forehead against Dorian’s back. Long, heavy minutes slip past them, and Galathan is losing himself to the maze of Dorian’s hot breaths and the electric friction of Dorian’s ass against him when Dorian pulls his fingers from his mouth.

“If you don’t— _ah—_ put these glorious fingers inside me _now,_ I’ll pitch you off this balcony,” Dorian says, but there’s no bite to it and Galathan smirks at the impatience in his voice.

“As you command, Lord Pavus,” Galathan teases back, pulling at Dorian until he’s facing him. He pins his thigh between Dorian’s legs and holds him fast against the railing, leaning up to press open-mouthed kisses to Dorian’s neck. Dorian tilts his head to give Galathan better access, moaning as Galathan trails his hands down and squeezes at his hips. “I want—” Galathan starts, “—I mean, can I mark you here, _vhenan_?”

Dorian nods, “yes, _amatus,_ please.”

“Mm,” Galathan hums, sucking a patch of Dorian’s skin between his teeth. He swipes his tongue across the reddening flesh and releases it, kissing the angry little mark before doing it again, gently, and closer to his jawline. Dorian is murmuring encouragements to Galathan in Tevene and Galathan is using his hands to spread him apart, thumb rubbing at the tight ring of muscle before a slick fingertip presses into him, and Dorian lets out a low whine of approval. Galathan sighs against his neck, working his finger deeper and leaving another mark on Dorian’s otherwise unmarred skin. “Is this all right?” Galathan whispers, finger moving in and out of Dorian rhythmically, now.

“Yes,” Dorian hisses, teeth suddenly latching to Galathan’s bottom lip. The kiss is all tongue and teeth and hot breath, and Galathan slides a second finger inside as Dorian moans loudly into his mouth. His cock is weeping against Galathan’s thigh and Galathan is wet inside his smallclothes from seeing and hearing and _feeling_ Dorian like this, pliant in his grasp and greedy for his touch—he’s thrusting back onto Galathan’s fingers and clinging to him as they kiss, and Galathan swells with so much love and _want_. Dorian gasps, then, as Galathan presses to that sensitive spot inside him. He leans back to let Dorian catch his breath, and Dorian moans out, “‘m close, _amatus, kaffas,_ yes—”

“Dorian,” Galathan says, sucking another welt to the other side of Dorian’s neck. He moves his hand from Dorian’s hip to his cock, and Dorian moans Galathan’s name as his grip tightens around the base.

“Maker’s breath, _amatus,_ you’ll be the end of me,” Dorian keens, hips bucking frantically as he seeks release but can’t under Galathan’s careful hold. 

“Sorry, _vhenan_ ,” Galathan says breathlessly, watching as precome beads delightfully at the tip of him, “I’d like to taste you first.” He knows his face turns pink by the way Dorian laughs, though it catches in his throat when Galathan fingers a bit harder at that cursed, wonderful spot inside him. “Would that be okay?”

“Oh, darling,” Dorian moans, “you hardly need to ask. But yes, _amatus,_ I’m wholly yours, however you’d like, yes.” Galathan kisses him then, hard, his brow furrowing in concentration. “Cute,” Dorian mutters against his lips, and Galathan flushes again.

His freckles disappear into the heat of his cheeks as he kisses Dorian once more. Galathan would gladly stay latched to him like this for the rest of the evening if Dorian’s cock weren’t desperately hard in his hand, still thick and heavy with need and blooming dark red at the crown. He moans when he sees Galathan staring at it, and Galathan feels guilty for making him wait. He withdraws his fingers and Dorian sighs at the loss, but Galathan is quick to turn him around and drop to his knees.

“ _Amatus,_ what are you—oh!” Dorian gasps, loudly, muscles tightening at the white-hot flash of Galathan’s tongue on his hole. “Galathan, fuck—” he says, hips flinching at the shock of it.

“Was that too much?” Galathan worries, leaning back. He steadies Dorian against the railing before asking, “should I stop?”

“Oh, Galathan, please, _please_ don’t stop.”

Galathan hums, pressing a kiss to the dimples at Dorian’s lower back. He takes a generous handful of Dorian’s ass and spreads him, thumbs pressing just _there_ , and Dorian lets out a low, loud moan as Galathan runs the flat of his tongue over him again. Dorian is quickly relaxing against his deliriously warm mouth, and Galathan can feel him rocking back, seeking more, so Galathan indulges him happily, slipping his tongue inside. Dorian gasps and clings to Galathan’s hands, scrambling rather gracefully to anchor himself as Galathan drives his tongue deeper still.

“ _Vishante kaffas,”_ Dorian says. His voice is nearly a whisper and his knees are trembling, and Galathan knows he’s close. He feels him begin to tense again, too, muscles clenching around his tongue, and he moans into him, moving a hand back to Dorian’s aching cock.

“Come for me, Dorian,” he murmurs after a moment more of tonguing into him, stroking him quickly as he slips two fingers inside and returns to kissing at his hole. He can tell Dorian is resisting his orgasm if only to feel Galathan working him another moment longer, and Galathan flushes with pride. Dorian starts moaning loudly again as his tongue pushes back in, lips like a brand on his skin, fist blurring on his cock.

Dorian comes with Galathan’s name in his throat, hips only stuttering to a stop after a long, dizzying crest of bliss. His spend is thick and heavy in Galathan’s hand, and Galathan blushes, placing one last kiss to his lower back before standing up. He wraps his arms around Dorian as he tries to catch his breath, holding him close enough to hear his rabbiting pulse. 

“ _Ar lath ma, vhenan,_ ” Galathan whispers against his skin.

“Mm, _amatus,_ ” Dorian sighs, grinning. “What did I do to deserve _that_?” 

“Nothing—everything,” Galathan says, correcting himself. Dorian chuckles, and then Galathan is leading him through his post-coital haze by pressing soft kisses to his shoulders. When Dorian’s legs finish shaking, he twists in Galathan’s arms to return the affection, pushing his lips to every part of Galathan’s face—the corner of his mouth, his cheeks and eyelids, his forehead, and the decorated flat of his chin. Galathan giggles at the attention, ducking his head to capture Dorian’s clever mouth. He’s so blissfully distracted by Dorian’s tongue against his that he doesn’t notice his partner’s wandering hands until one is palming him hard through his trousers.

“Dorian—” he gasps, “y-you don’t have to—”

“I want to, _amatus_.” Dorian kisses him again and Galathan squirms as his cock hardens, caught between the gratification of Dorian’s talented hand on him and the discomfort of being trapped in the humid friction of his smallclothes.

“Please,” he moans into Dorian’s mouth, rising to his tiptoes to wrap his arms around Dorian’s neck.

“‘Please’ what, darling?” Dorian teases, ghosting his lips over Galathan’s. Galathan knows what Dorian is really asking, knows what he wants to hear, and he blushes hotly for his willingness to acquiesce.

“Dorian— _a_ _h_ —please,” he starts, whining when Dorian’s hand moves to his hip and keeps him from bucking into the pressure his other hand is offering.

“Yes?”

“Can you—I want— _please_ ,” Galathan says, voice breaking.

“Keep going,” Dorian murmurs, a satisfied smirk playing on his face. His eyes are dark and fixed on Galathan’s expression, mustache disheveled from where Galathan’s frantic mouth had been. When Galathan only moans in response, he squeezes his cock once before drawing his hand back.

“Dorian!” he gasps, trying a bit desperately to reach him with little thrusts of his hips. He’s panting, now, suddenly so overwhelmed by how hard he is and how close Dorian is holding him and he whimpers, pressing his face into Dorian’s neck to hide. “Dorian, I want it, want _you,_ please—touch me, please, something—a-anything— _ah,_ ” he says, babbling against the peak of Dorian’s throat. He’s practically incoherent now, and Dorian swells, letting Galathan plead for him for a moment longer.

“Yes, anything for you, _amatus,”_ Dorian whispers to the tip of Galathan’s ear. And then he’s walking Galathan backward through the open balcony door and into the warm space of his chambers, pulling off his clothes and letting his palms linger on Galathan’s skin in all the right places. He’s gentle as he pushes Galathan down on the bed, letting him shift against the pillows before bracketing his hips with his knees. 

He’s sucking Galathan’s bottom lip between his teeth and reaching for the side table, but Galathan’s thoughts are occupied solely by Dorian’s hand slowly working the length of him; up, first, and then down, and then further, cupping his velvet-soft balls before pressing his fingers to the smooth span of his perineum. Galathan is all heavy breaths and barely-stifled moans, tongue pliant for Dorian’s as it slides into his mouth. He feels Dorian’s body moving further away from him but he’s only enough mind left to think about how his cock is twitching in Dorian’s hand. His vision is blurry with desire and the sheen on Dorian’s skin.

“Dorian, _please,”_ he whines, “r-ridiculous, teasing—” he’s saying, but pauses to moan. “—evil man, with your— _ah_ —your nipples and y-your mustache,” he says, trailing off into a breathy stream of frenzied, senseless Elven.

Dorian laughs warmly against his mouth. “My _nipples_? Is that what you’re riled up about, darling?”

There’s a long pause as Galathan shudders, Dorian’s thumb finding the tip of his cock. “O-only partially.”

“Mm,” Dorian hums, still smirking. There’s a tinkling of glass afterward that has Galathan arching his back instinctively, and Dorian kisses him again and again, the quiet, wet noises of their mouths meeting and parting accompanied only by the sound of the wood burning in the fireplace. But then Dorian is moving an oiled hand over Galathan’s cock and lowering himself down, and Galathan’s hands scramble for his hips, nails biting crescents into his beautiful, bronze skin.

“Oh—Dorian! Oh—” he manages, gasping as Dorian cants his hips forward and the head of Galathan’s cock pushes into his fevered, slicked hole. Dorian moans quietly, easing back slowly until he’s fully seated. They’re both breathing hard, and Galathan smooths his hands up Dorian’s sides as Dorian adjusts. “You feel so good, Dorian,” he murmurs, sitting up as best he can to kiss the underside of Dorian’s chin. “A-are—are you all right?”

Dorian nods after a moment, rocking forward shallowly to make Galathan moan for him. “Ever the selfless lover,” he teases softly, brushing the hair from Galathan’s eyes. “Ah, but I’m better than ‘all right,’ _amatus,_ ” he says, and the love in his voice makes Galathan fidget. He opens his mouth to respond, but Dorian kisses him instead, fingers tracing the blush that’s spread down to his neck and chest. He pushes Galathan back into the pillows and thumbs at his nipples before rolling his hips, hard. Galathan watches him intently, moaning as he does.

“Yes, Dorian,” he breathes, shivering at the sound of Dorian murmuring to him while riding his cock. The muscles in his thighs bunch and relax perfectly as he rises up, nearly pulling completely off before sliding back down again, and the feel of him has Galathan unraveling. 

“That’s it, darling—” Dorian says, letting out a long moan as his rhythm quickens, “that’s it.” Galathan blushes all over again at the crude sound of their skin slapping together and moans Dorian’s name, eyelashes fluttering as he catches Dorian looking at him, his pupils blown wide. 

He jerks suddenly when Galathan hits that sweet patch of nerves inside him, and Galathan wraps a hand around Dorian’s stiffening cock, moving in time with his working hips. He can tell Dorian is still sensitive from his first orgasm by the way his hips twitch at Galathan’s touch, salt beading quickly at the tip of him, but then he’s bearing down on Galathan’s own leaking cock and all thought leaves him. Dorian’s hole is tight and oil-slick and stretching eagerly to take Galathan’s cock, the heat of him radiating through Galathan like wildfire.

“Dorian, I— _ah_ ,” Galathan moans, bucking up to meet Dorian’s rutting. Dorian moans back, one hand on Galathan’s at his cock and the other rooted flat to the rapid rise and fall of Galathan’s chest.

“Maker, look at you, _amatus,_ ” Dorian croons. Galathan arches at the praise and feels his cock twitch urgently. His hand falters while stroking Dorian, and Dorian is smirking despite the frantic pace of his own thrusting. He leans forward to kiss Galathan, lips lingering on his mouth. “I love you,” he whispers, and presses close as Galathan comes, fast and hard inside him. His cock is still pulsing and Dorian is still grinding against him when Dorian comes, too, his spend stark against the pink flush of Galathan’s skin. 

They breathe together for a long time, going boneless in each other’s arms. Galathan runs his hands up Dorian’s back and kisses at the parts of him he can reach, sighing happily. He thinks a pleasant exhaustion is settling over both of them until Dorian starts grumbling and shifting on top of him. Galathan opens his eyes sleepily, running his fingers through Dorian’s hair.

“Hm?”

“Let’s clean up before we’re stuck together, _amatus_ ,” Dorian says, and Galathan gives him a goofy smile.

“Would that be so bad?”

Dorian laughs. “I suppose not. But I’d prefer to be stuck to you by means other than our dry spend.”

Galathan blushes but concedes, guiding Dorian to lie beside him. “Let me,” he says, kissing him before rolling off the bed. He pads to the washroom and retrieves a damp cloth before returning to his quarters, reaching for Dorian and kissing him again as he towels gently between his legs. Dorian hums, tangling his limbs with Galathan’s and pushing drowsy kisses to his warm mouth once he’s satisfied they’re both decent.

“Do you think you could offend another Orlesian noble tomorrow?” Dorian asks between kisses, voice husky.

“Why?” Galathan says, starting to grin, “because you want me all to yourself again?”

Dorian smirks. “No—I just want you to offend another Orlesian noble.” They both laugh, then, and Galathan dips down to bite at his collarbone playfully.

“Ridiculous man,” he murmurs, and tucks his head under Dorian’s chin. The dimming light from the hearth is still warm, but Dorian pulls a blanket over them just as Galathan starts slipping into the fog of sleep.

  
“ _Your_ ridiculous man, _amatus,_ ” he whispers, and kisses the top of Galathan’s head before drifting off.


End file.
